I speak from the funnel of a daffodil. I am transistorized.
I am also cake, sandwiched between vanilla splinters and raspberry blood.

Who knew me before I did? Who knew?

I watched a million pigs die today, in a pit of soon to be, Zombie flesh.
A girl cried inside her white mask but not enough, as diggers don’t hear too well.

What I am saying is... Not enough.